


After the Rain

by GenuineSnoof



Category: I Spy (1965)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kelly just gets into the worst things, shameless Kelly whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 13:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20210374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenuineSnoof/pseuds/GenuineSnoof
Summary: Kelly gets into trouble a lot, but he manages to get out of it somewhat all right a lot, too. There's that at least. (Just absolutely shameless whump&bantering held together with what might pass as a plot.)





	After the Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dawnwind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/gifts).

Acapulco in the rain wasn't nearly as beautiful as Acapulco in the sunshine. Not that that came as a surprise to Scotty. Having grown up in Philly, he didn't necessarily perceive a rainy day as a personal insult, mind; however, like most non-natives, he perceived it as understood that you didn't spend time in a place like Acapulco to be sitting inside your bright pink hotel while someone was probably building in ark next door just in case. 

To be honest, every place looked less nice in the rain, was Scotty's opinion. Even Italy, hell, even Greece. And certainly Acapulco. A thing of beauty was a thing to exist forever in sunshine. Rained on, it turned into just another wet thing. 

Now that'd be an interesting discussion to have with Kelly, he mused, while he was standing at the window watching the pool fill up. Kelly would surely have come up with a few choice examples to the contrary. A t-shirt filled with a human body of a particular shape. 

For example. 

He could hear Kelly's voice in his head just saying said. "Some might say a certain degree of wetness even grands such a thing beauty in the first place."

"Some pervert," Scotty might have countered.

"Pervert, potato," Kelly would have said. "You, sir, are just a narrow-minded philosopher."

"It was a poet, your peasentness, claimed the point of discussion."

"Poet, potato."

However, Kelly wasn't here and so no one could dispute him that beautiful Acapulco in the rain was just rainy. 

Scotty turned away from the window and flomped onto the couch. He contemplated calling Mom, but then he'd called her the day before and nothing much worthy to tell had happened in the meantime. The pool was a bit dirtier and a lot fuller, but apart from that... He decided he'd call her if it overflowed. That'd be something to tell.

He pursed his lips and made frog fart noises to fill the silence, glancing around the living-room. He had a few books left to read. There were always books left to read. But he'd been reading for two solid days now with the sound of Acapulco being rained on in the background and he was getting tired of it.

He could make a sandwich, he thought. But he wasn't hungry. He could take a nap, maybe. 

He said "nap" out loud to hear what it sounded like, but he'd just gotten up two hours ago. Some jetsetting glamour spy he'd be, sleeping all day while jetsettingly lounging in exotic Acapulco.

Which, of course, was just wet and drab right now.

Scotty sighed. 

"Bored," he said out loud to hear what that sounded like. Sounded about right.

If he'd drink, he could get shit-faced, he guessed. That's what Kelly would most likely do on rainy days off in... anywhere. A man had a reason to take a long nap once he got shit-faced. 

Man, teetotaling was such a chore. At least when you did it by yourself. If Kelly'd been there, Scotty could have watched him get wasted and mock him for it and feel superior and smarter and make him go outside to smoke just to see him trying to light a cigarette in the rain. That'd be something to do. And not the least amusing thing, even.

Another sigh. Another frog fart noise. 

So he missed Kelly. Maybe. Nothing wrong with that, really. Kelly wasn't the worst person to miss on a rainy day in Acapulco. 

And if he'd missed Kelly even before it'd started to rain two days ago, nobody needed to know. It wasn't like missing your best friend after not having seen him for eleven days was particularly weird. Especially when the guy was also your work colleague. If they'd had normal office jobs, Scotty would probably miss him after eleven days of absence, too. Of course, office jobs would be filled with stuff to do, copying papers, making coffee, going to the john, the occasional phone call, writing reports...

Well.

He could write reports. There were always reports to write. But he'd be damned if he wrote them when it was Kelly's turn.

So making frog fart noises on the couch in the living-room it was. 

It was his own fault, anyway, he figured and rolled his eyes at himself, accompanying it with a fittingly loud frog fart noise. It'd been him who'd told Kelly to go have a fun vacation with the quirky-sexy Scottish teacher for two weeks, while he, Scotty, would hold the ford in their Pink Home in Acapulco, officially managing Kelly's tournament schedule for the next month and in reality being on call for any possible light assignments Washington might throw at him.

So far, he'd delivered a package to a tiny bookstore like a real TV spy and had conducted two background checks for fellow agents in the area. And it wasn't bad to not have much to do in beautiful Acapulco, by all means, no it wasn't. One could never get enough napping in the sun by the pool done or wandering around the city – in the sun – or sitting in cozy little cafés and read one's books – in the sun. 

Only now it'd been raining for two days straight and screw Kelly for ditching him in wet, drab, rainy Acapulco while he was probably hogging the sun wherever he was. That'd be just like him. The moment he'd return, Scotty would sock him, he decided. 

There. Making plans. Always a good way to spend a rainy day.

He'd absently started frog fart noising the melody to 'Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling', when he suddenly noticed the absence of the accompanying dripdripdripping from outside where the pool was being rained into.

Turning his head to the window, he was greeted by a gray, alas rainless sky. 

Must've been the song, he decided and continued frog fart noise-singing famous movie themes, while he opened the door to the balcony and stepped outside.

Well, all right. Rain made up for being rain by leaving a lovely smell behind, you had to leave it that. Scotty drew in a deep breath, stared into the clouds for a bit to make the sun come out, then returned back inside. 

Celebratory chocolate milk was what this called for.

After two glasses and another long contemplation if he should call Mom after all to tell her the rain had stopped – News From Exotic Acapulco! - he settled for taking a stroll to the market place, see how everyone's arks were coming along.

He'd slipped into his shoes and was looking around for his jacket – or any of Kelly's, he wasn't choosy – when a small noise from the front door drew his attention. 

He frowned, watching the door, then shook his head, dismissing it, and grabbed Kelly's red windbreaker off a chair in the hallway. 

This time, he actually had his hand already on the doorknob, when he heard it again. A small scratching sound, as if someone was trying not to knock.

Frown deepening and his Spider Sense tingling, as they say, he hesitated, stepped slightly to the side and then in one swift motion opened the door wide.

When no one fell in or rushed in or even stepped in, Scotty poked his head around the door.

There, underneath the gray, drab Acapulco sky stood his partner, mostly wet, if not completely drenched like he would have been if he'd been walking up the road. Though, for a man only wearing what looked like hospital scrubs, loafers and a thin black knitted sweater several sizes too big for him, Kelly was sufficiently wet, his hair plastered to his forehead and dripping onto his pale face.

Kelly looked pointedly over Scotty's shoulder, then back at him, clearly asking if he was alone.

Scotty nodded, experience having taught him to respond to silent questions with silent answers.

Kelly's tense shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit, as he let out a small shuddering breath. He was hugging himself tightly and was visibly trembling from the chill of the rain if nothing else.

His gaze flicked away, then back to Scotty like he was summoning his courage. Scotty instinctively watched his eyes for the telltale signs of drugs, but apart from some very disturbing emotions usually not found in them – fear primarily – they looked clear. Beyond exhausted, sure, blueishblack smudges under them that stood out starkly on Kelly's sickly gray skin, but sober.

"'s not true, man," Kelly said. His voice sounded exactly like he looked, somehow small and very scared and wet and tired and just... helpless. That in particular wasn't a word Scotty ever associated with Kelly, but it was the first one that sprung to mind seeing him now. He looked like a stray kitten that'd scratched at his door, hoping to sneak inside. 

No Spider Sense needed for this. Scotty scanned the road behind Kelly, looked back at him and nodded. "Okay," he said and stepped aside a bit to indicate Kelly should come inside.

Never one to realize when he could just stop worrying his partner already, Kelly hesitated, but eventually ducked his head and snuck past Scotty just like any stray alley cat would. Sniffing repeatedly, he stood just inside the door, head bowed and dripped onto the floor.

Scotty closed the door after a last long sweeping glance outside and turned to face him. 

"I'll leave," Kelly told the floor, dripping, hugging himself. "Just wanted to tell you. Wanted you to... know." He sneezed.

"Gesundheit." Whatever this was, it looked bad. As much as Scotty wanted to shake Kelly into making sense, first he needed to make sure they were on the same page. Kelly apparently thought they were and judging from his shaken demenour, news either hadn't found Scotty, yet, or hell was close on Kelly's heels and in either scenario denying any knowledge of what was going on would most likely raise Kelly's suspicion and make it harder for Scotty to determine the truth.

He had only seen Kelly this afraid a handful of times, but it'd always been like handling an unknown chemical substance. The secret was to tread lightly while pretending to know exactly what one was doing.

"You're dripping all over the floor, man," Scotty said. "This is an expensive floor, they'll not let us put that on our expense account."

Startled, Kelly looked up at him, then down at the small puddle at his feet and frowned. Scotty realised he'd expected to drip something other than water.

"C'mon," he said and led the way to the stairs, careful not to touch Kelly for now. 

Kelly obediently followed him two steps into the hallway, then stopped. "Listen... Scotty... I swear 'snot true. You know that, right?" Kelly looked at him imploringly.

"Sure," Scotty said. "Now c'mon get dry before you catch something. You know what Mom told you about catching stuff."

Kelly watched him, unsure, arching his brows, as he stood shivering. "'mnot gonna stay, I wouldn't do that to... Just..." He let go of a desperate huff, very close to a sob. "You KNOW, Duke, right? I'd... never!" he exclaimed, but bit his lip as if trying to shut himself up. "'mgonna fix this, I promise. Dunno how, yet, been having a bad day, but I can fix it, I can..." He stopped abruptly, eyes widening as he suddenly glanced around. 

Scotty's heart sank. "No one's listening, Kel," he said. "'sjust us chickens. We can fix it and we can start by fixing you into dryness, now c'mere before you soak through the floor tiles."

For an awful second Scotty expected Kelly to bolt, but then he shuffled closer and stepped onto the first step, following Scotty up the stairs. "Didn't talk, man," he told Scotty's back. "Didn't tell them anything. You know I wouldn't. I don't do that."

Clenching his jaw, Scotty braced himself. So it was like that. Interrogation? Torture again? Kelly looking down to see what was staining the precious floor... 

And to think he'd been this close to complaining about boredom earlier.

"I know you don't," he said and opened the bathroom door upstairs. He turned on the shower, lukewarm for now – who knew how long Kelly had been hiding in the cold rain – and stepped outside. "Get under there. Leave the door open."

Short orders. That usually did the trick.

He didn't wait to see if Kelly did as told, but went to get dry clothes from Kelly's room. 

When he returned, he found Kelly had shed the jacket and loafers and was sitting barefoot in the shower with his legs drawn up, forehead resting on his knees. He was still wearing the scrubs that'd turned see-through now and he was still shivering.

Watching for any blood going down the drain, Scotty put the clothes onto a stool near the sink and sat down on the toilet lid. He waited for Kelly to look up and when he didn't asked, "Need help peeling those off?"

Cloth sticking to drying wounds? 

Kelly's head jerked up and Scotty realised he'd faded out. 

"Nah, man," Kelly said in a thin voice, but didn't try to stand up. The water ran over his drenched hair and he brushed it away with a shaking hand, revealing an angry burn mark at his temple.

Scotty frowned. "How bad?"

He'd been walking all right, his arms hadn't looked broken. There was still no blood to be seen.

Kelly shook his head. "Just bruises. Got some stitches," he added after a moment's thought. He was relaxing slightly under the warm spray, the tension of being chilled to the bone giving way to palpable exhaustion. In only the wet light blue he looked even paler, almost white, his eyes more sunken in.

He hasn't slept in days, Scotty thought and repeated, "Stitches."

Nodding, Kelly fumbled at the hem of his shirt as if to lift it, but didn't seem to have the strength. "Tried to escape. Had a bit of an accident."

"When was that?"

Kelly's wide eyes wandered around the room. It took him some visible effort to focus on Scotty again. "Dunno."

"Drugs?" Scotty asked.

"Yeah... but I've been away a while now..." Kelly's head fell back against the wall, his eyes slipping shut. The warmth was lulling him to sleep.

Scotty grimaced and stood to turn off the water. Kelly blinked bleary eyes open at him. The exhaustion was almost drowning out the fear, but it was still there. He made no move to get up.

"I didn't do what they say," he said.

"I know." Scotty held out his hand and was relieved when Kelly took it to be helped to his feet, where he swayed in Scotty's grip. His skin felt cool to the touch, but not freezing.

"Can you dress yourself?" Scotty asked. 

Kelly nodded. No quip. 

"Let me see those stitches."

In silent obeying mode, Kelly feebly peeled the wet shirt away from his chest and with a wince dragged it over his head. 

Scotty grimaced. A long gash just underneath Kelly's ribs had been crudely fixed. It ran almost parallel to the scar on his belly and looked painful, but fortunately clean. 

"Some accident," Scotty said.

Kelly gripped his hand, eyes boring into his. "I managed the third time. They didn't let me go. I know they told you, but they didn't."

"How?"

"Houdini," Kelly said with a wry smirk and held up the hand not holding onto Scotty's. A black bruise marred the swollen area where he'd dislocated his thumb and put it back in again. Raw chafing travelled up his wrist.

"Hmm," Scotty nodded, pursing his lips. "The wonderfulness of flexibility. And then you clawed the key out of dark unknown places and bowed to the audience."

"Knocked 'em out," Kelly said and that was a good sign, Scotty decided. The shower must've helped some.

"Never expected less of you, Harry," Scotty said, steadying Kelly's elbow as he stepped out of the shower. "You get paid too much to disappoint." He shoved a towel into Kelly's arms, but took it back when Kelly simply hugged it to himself, and rubbed his hair with it, then carefully dried his chest. 

"What kinda tank was it, then? Under water?"

Kelly took the towel from Scotty, not looking at him and clumsily dried his back. "Some kinda lab... basement or... summin'. Kept me in bed the whole time, not in the fun way. Always dark... uh..." He squinched his eyes shut as if trying to remember. "Only ever saw two guys... no, three. With the one with the syringes. Don't think he passed the exam," he added, rubbing the inside of his elbow. "He's the one I knocked out." He nodded curtly, eyes still shut. "Ran... up the stairs, uh... broke a window... daylight outside. Dawn, summin' like that. Ran for the woods. Hid till nightfall, found a street." He opened his eyes to look at Scotty. "Never saw them, dunno if they followed at all. I, uh, waited out there," he pointed vaguely for the window, "before I knocked, but I never saw anyone. I don't think they'd think I'd come here." He shuddered as if talking this much had tired him and wrapped the towel around himself, huddling into it. "I didn't give them any names, man. I didn't. They kept saying I did, but I know I didn't. I swear, Jack, I swear on a whole mountain of flags I didn't."

His words had sped up, voice sliding into high-pitched rawness and he was looking at Scotty with those pleading eyes again.

"C'mon, you'll get cold again," Scotty said softly and tugged at the towel. "Get dressed 'n come down, I'll make you a coffee or something. They feed you at all?"

"I didn't," Kelly repeated. He sounded like he was about to cry. "I KNOW I didn't."

"You said there were drugs."

Kelly let go of a shaky breath and nodded, running a hand through his damp hair and making it stick up. "Yes. Pentothal." 

Ah. Scotty sighed unhappily. It was pretty much common knowledge among the higher trained agents of any side that there were no such things at truth serums, but of course that didn't keep people from experimenting with substances, something his partner had experience with first-hand. And it was true – Kelly would KNOW he was in no danger of spilling secrets under the influence of pentothal, he'd already proven that. It did, however, give him major migranes and had knocked him out for a good 24 hours the last time it'd been used on him.

"They didn't let me sleep after," Kelly said in an almost comically indignant tone. "Listened to me recite The Wiener Schnitzel Waltz in response to their questions, shot me up with something, turned off the lights and left. Worst hospital I've ever been to."

Scotty winced. 'Aw Kel.' He gently brushed his thumb over the burn mark on Kelly's temple and turned his head slightly to look at the matching one on his other side. "Used up all their electricity in short bursts, huh?"

Kelly drew his head back. "Didn't ask me anything, then, though. That was just for VIP treatment."

Figured, Scotty thought. Disorient him with pain, darkness, soften him up for the most ineffective way of interrogation... Didn't sound like Kelly had been the guest of the most smartest of colleagues. 

"You always complain you don't get enough of that," he said and threw the towel into the hamper. Grabbing the sweater he'd brought, he put it over Kelly's head as carefully as he could – "Arms." - and maneuvered Kelly's sluggishly raised arms into the sleeves. With a parting pat to Kelly's back, he stepped back and gestured for the pants. 

"I'm not dressing your underparts. Put those on, come downstairs." Seeing Kelly opening his mouth, he added, "I believe ya. You didn't say anything. So break that record and dry your most beloved before you get a bladder infection."

With that, he turned to leave Kelly in private and headed downstairs for the kitchen. 

Well, at least he wasn't bored anymore. It was also still dry outside, so he left the balcony door open, while he made coffee and prepared a light snack, put it on a plate together with a couple of tylenols and carried it and a large glass of water to the coffee table by the couch. He paused by the staircase on his way back to listen for any troublesome noises just in time to see Kelly emerge at the top dressed in the pyjama bottoms and thick socks he'd left for him. 

"All right?" Scotty asked.

Kelly nodded mutely and came downstairs, wobbly on his feet, but looking a bit better. His hair was still towsled, drying in an haphazard part, and a spot of toothpaste had dried on his sweater. 

Scotty watched him descend and pointed at the couch. "Sit. I'll bring your coffee."

"Always said this place needed room service. Make it a double, my good man," Kelly said, as he walked past him. "Two sugars, the liquid kind."

Scotty poured a big mug of coffee in the kitchen, rummaged through the cleaning supplies in the sink cabinet where he kept a special stash of after-tournament rewards hidden from his partner, and returned to the living-room area. 

Kelly was sitting on the couch with his legs up, chin resting on his knees and watched the sandwich and sliced banana on his plate like he was waiting for them to make the first move.

"Catch," Scotty warned before he lightly threw a pack of cigarettes at him, managing to almost exactly hit the spot of toothpaste when Kelly looked up.

"Stick to the tennis, NoMaggio," Scotty said and put the coffee down next to the plate. He sat down next to Kelly on the couch. 

Kelly almost moaned in pleasure, when he tore off the paper. "Ugh, you're beautiful!" 

"I know, Mom told me," Scotty said, watching Kelly trying to shake out a cigarette and at last took the pack from him to do it for him. He even lit it for him and passed it on. "No sugar," he said, "but take your drugs," he gestured for the plate with his head, "for your health."

Kelly almost burned half the cigarette with two long drags, letting go of the smoke with closed eyes and moaned again, leaning his head back. Screw being electrocuted and mind-fucked, nicotine withdrawl was a bitch. 

At last, Kelly leaned forward to pick up the coffee, but had to put the cigarette into the ashtray – after another long, calming drag – to use both hands to hold it still. "So what's new on your side of the moral divide?" he asked, the light tone not masking some dark bitterness shining through now that he didn't look as terrified anymore. "Your partner's a spineless traitor, sold everyone and Santa Clause out for his own worthless skin, endangered half the Department... What're you even still doing here?"

"Been raining for days."

"Ah yeah. Can't get those shoes wet." Kelly took a sip, put the mug down and picked up the cigarette. "Seriously, man," he turned to look at Scotty. "What'd they tell you?"

"N'uh uh," Scotty said. "Not my turn, yet. How long ago was that, the woods, finding the street?"

Kelly drew in a deep breath, then quickly sucked in another lungful of smoke as if noticing he'd just breathed in empty air. "Dunno, man... Uhm..." He glanced about the coffee table, thinking. "Day in the woods... some time following the street... uh... two day drive to the border." He gestured vaguely and put out his cigarette, reaching for the pack with his other hand. "Three days? Four, more like."

Scotty frowned. "Two day ride?"

Kelly nodded, fumbling with the pack again, lit up another smoke.

"Got picked up?"

"No-pe."

"For shame, man." Scotty tsk'd.

"Anyone should be glad to be rid of that car, believe you me."

"After you lived in it for two days."

"Certainly." Kelly blew out smoke, rubbed his eyes. "Anyway, I left it at the border, they'll get it back if anyone finds it."

Scotty frowned. "Border."

"Yeah, man, in Cali."

"They had you in the States."

"Yeah." Kelly smoked, narrowing his eyes as he watched Scotty scratch the back of his neck.

"Is that where you and Miss McMath went?"

"Yeah," Kelly said, bowing his head. "Well, first. Had a fight on the plane to L.A. and off she went."

Scotty ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Hoby, man..."

"Don't say it."

"Nah, nah, it's fine," Scotty said. "I won't say it, not a thing. I won't tell you the story of how when they invented honey traps, I read about it in Spy Magazine and I thought to myself, Alexander, I thought, this is a waste of tax payer money, no one will ever fall for that kinda thing."

"So I'm a bee," Kelly said darkly. "Knock me unconscious with a sock and then stuff it in your mouth."

"No, no - bees MAKE honey."

Kelly blew out smoke, cast Scotty a sideglance. He was much calmer now, the anxious tension having completely fallen off him. "Can I ask you something, Holmes? And tell me if I'm outta line, but I'm beginning to think – and, again, say it ain't so if it ain't so – that all of what I've been telling you so far has come as complete and utter news to you."

Scotty smiled. "And they say smoking is bad for your brain."

Kelly sighed deeply, put out his cigarette and let his head fall back against the headrest. "No one says that," he muttered, looking at the ceiling. "You... didn't know about any of this. Didn't know I've been... No one called you, nothing."

"Eat your banana, it's getting cold."

Kelly rolled his head to look at him. "Nobody knows, do they? Washington? No one. I vanish off the face of the earth for..."

"Eleven days."

"Eleven days, which include ten nights, thank you very much, and no one..." He blindly reached out and Scotty put the pack of cigarettes into his hand. "That's wonderful."

"I sliced it special," Scotty said after a moment. "The banana. Old family recipe. Mom inherited it from her great-grandmother, who'd bought it from an old wise woman in Cincinatti."

Kelly blew smoke at the ceiling, ignoring him. 

"You, uh, you should probably eat something," Scotty tried again at last. 

"Eleven days. And so – what? What do we figure has happened to Mr Robinson, ladies and gentlemen? Was he a) abducted by amateur idiots like the very much professional idiot he is or was he b) drugged and tied up and sliced open just for-"

" - and electrocuted."

"Thank you, sir in the front row. And electrocuted just for them to figure out no game or was he indeed c) lucky enough to have managed to escape before they were declaring game over because b) no game – OR was he d) stupid enough to believe they had any means of contacting ANYONE to spread the word on him that which begins with a t? Discuss." Kelly angrily sucked at his cigarette.

"There's peanut butter left, too," Scotty said. "I'd let you eat it out of the jar cause you hurt your thumb."

A smoky huff of a laugh escaped Kelly. "Gonna eat it on the banana. Cincinetti can go fly a kite."

Scotty made a show out of grimacing and patted Kelly's knee. "Well, I guess you also hurt your wrist."

He was about to rise to get the jar, when Kelly's voice held him back. "You know you're outta line, right? Have a compromised agent sullying your furnishings – gotta do a debriefing first. Proper by the book, check all the boxes." He leaned forward to put out his cigarette and lowered his knees to sit cross-legged, looking up at Scotty.

"Yeah," Scotty said in a serious tone, nodding. "I figured you haven't been through enough, too. So, uh, spill it – what'd they look like?"

"Ugly."

"Hm." Scotty nodded. "What'd they wanna know?"

"Names and alias of every agent I knew."

"Accents?"

"'Merican."

"They know which Department you work for?"

"No." Kelly frowned, then rolled his eyes. "No."

"So who blew your cover?"

Kelly hung his head. "No clue." He ran a hand through his hair. "You're the subscriber, though. Do queen bees ever get involved in the honey traps themselves?" He looked up, resigned and embarrassed.

Scotty shrugged. "Good a guess as any. So we'll call Washington, send them her picture and name she gave us... All you can do."

Kelly raised his brows.

"Well, you know," Scotty said casually. "Cause reasonable suspicions. Best have her checked out by MI6 before someone gets hurt."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, Scotty daring Kelly to protest.

At last, Kelly bowed his head again. "Haven't asked the important question, Duke."

"Fork or knife?" Scotty asked.

"What?"

"You need a knife to spread peanut butter ON the banana pieces or do you use a fork to dip them INTO the peanut butter?"

Kelly frowned. "Who dips bananas into the peanut butter? Surely that's against the law."

Scotty spread his palms. "Listen, I'm new to all of this. You better not tell my Mom the things you make me watch, she'll never let me sit next to you during recess again."

"Probably shouldn't," Kelly said, grabbing the cigarettes. 

Scotty paused, sat down again. Oh no. They were not doing this. Not when he was going to let the guy put peanut butter on a banana.

"Hey." He leaned forward, searching Kelly's eyes and grabbed his chin when Kelly refused to look at him. "You didn't tell them anything. The Wiener Schnitzel Waltz is no state secret as much as it should be. You got yourself out alive, you put your thumb back in where it belonged so's to not play even worse than you do, anyway, and you made it back home to the ranch with six days of vacation left to get back into shape. You gonna take your tylenol now, eat your disgusting choice of lunch, have a nice, long sleep, get your stitches looked at by a real doctor tomorrow and spend a few days taking it easy. I'll even buy you a comic book if it won't start raining again. You got all that?"

Kelly didn't reply, didn't look at him.

"And you're not gonna decide who my mom should allow me to sit next to. That's her job." Scotty lowered his gaze more, trying to catch Kelly's. "Kel."

"I just..."

But Scotty knew that tone and he didn't care for it none. "No. Forget it. This time, I'll hog all the guilt. Okay? You want any, you gotta ask nicely and then I'll still say no, go get your own somewhere, I'm not sharing. See, while you were off being Captain Marvel with the Houdini-ing and being Adam Grizzly in the woods, I've been here counting raindrops like a dope while my partner was being tortured. Again, too, you see, because it happens to not have been the first time. Of course, last time I was asleep-"

"Unconsc-"

"Asleep, when it happened, but this I'd say minimal change in awarelessness doesn't alter the emotional response to it at all, I have to admit."

Finally, Kelly looked at him.

"C'mon," Scotty said, nudging his shoulder. "Say 'you didn't know'. I need you to say that to continue my shitick here. Whole show depends on it."

Kelly rolled his eyes. "I let mys-"

"Ah ah ah," Scotty cut him off. "We're talking about yours truly. You been chattering all day, all that being tied up in the dark and drugged and VIP treatment, let a man get a word in some time. I met her, too, right? Didn't I? Not in he biblical sense like yourself, but unless she had a masterplan tattooed on her back, I don't see how if you get to beat yourself up about not having spotted her, I don't, too. And I let you just go with her. Some partner."

Kelly frowned, confused. "But... honey tra-"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Stupid line." Scotty shrugged. "Shouldn't have said it."

Kelly's frowned deepened. "What're you doing, Jack? I don't-"

"Next word out of your mouth is 'deserve', I'm never stashing these for you again," Scotty flicked his finger at the cigarettes. He looked at Kelly expectantly.

Kelly clamped his mouth shut.

Scotty gave a curt nod. Kelly'd been convinced everyone in the Department considered him compromised, that he probably had a shoot on sight out on him, yet he'd travelled all the way to Acapulco because he'd needed to look Scotty in the eye when he told him it wasn't true. Hadn't tried to contact Washington, nothing, just Scotty. And not because he'd necessarily trusted Scotty to believe him – the helpless terror in his eyes when he'd first shown up on the doorstep had assured Scotty of that – but because he'd just needed to. Needed to tell Scotty, no matter the consequences. Kelly's words from earlier rang in his ears. 'I'll leave. Just wanted to tell you.' Jesus, this guy. 

Hiding out in the pouring rain just to make sure no one had followed him to where Scotty was. After days on the run. 

And if he hadn't been able to pull that stunt with his thumb, they would've killed him and Scotty would never have known. After his two weeks of vacation would've been up, Kelly just wouldn't have returned. No way of finding out. He wouldn't even have known Kelly would have died thinking he considered him a traitor.

He wasn't aware he'd reached out to hug Kelly, until he heard his partner's surprised "umpfh".

Scotty gentled his hold on him, mindful of the wound to Kelly's side, but didn't let go. He put his hand on Kelly's head, stroking his hair. After a moment of hesitation, Kelly hugged him back. 

They stayed like that for a while, Scotty petting Kelly's hair, lightly squeezing him. When he let go, he could feel Kelly's reluctance in following suit. 

Kelly was blushing slightly, when Scotty looked at him, a small, confused smile on his face. "Don't lie to me now... there really isn't any peanut butter left, is there?"

Scotty forced the chuckle down to scowl at him. "Would I lie? Would I lie to you?"

"It is our trade," Kelly reminded him.

"Speak for yourself, man. I'm in the business of obtaining truths and spreading them. Thus, let me tell you, if you put into your mouth the combination of the two food items I shall provide for you, I will respect you less."

"In the morning?" Kelly asked.

"The very second after the fact."

Kelly tilted his head, considering. "In the overall available pool of respect thou hast for me, will it register much, though?"

Scotty thought about it. "Define much."

Kelly laughed, but it turned into a yawn almost right away.

"I'm not carrying you up to bed, no matter how scrawny you are," Scotty said and stood up, picking up the plate. "Git. I'll bring your barbaric garbagefest upstairs."

Kelly pouted. "You just hope I'll be asleep and not able to eat it."

"Yes. Now go."

Grumbling playfully, Kelly rose to his feet, accepting Scotty's steadying hold when he swayed slightly, and slowly headed for the stairs.

"Hey Kel."

"Hm?" Kelly turned to look back at Scotty, one foot on the first step.

"You got toothpaste all over my sweater, man. That's a brand new sweater."

Kelly checked, almost falling over, but caught himself on the bannister. "So I do. Well, then it won't matter if I get peanut butter on it."

"You get peanut butter on my sweater," Scotty said indignantly, "I'll tell Mom, you betcha."

"I wish you would," Kelly said, turned and headed up the stairs.

THE END


End file.
